


Them

by NierQ



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:41:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22482787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NierQ/pseuds/NierQ
Summary: Just a small thought about one of those encounters before 'Rare Species' we've missed out on~
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 94





	Them

**Author's Note:**

> You know when you can't close the browser tab with a gif of them kissing for days?

Providing fertility treatments to local noblewomen always leaves a sour taste in her mouth and this has been no different. This one has been particularly unpleasant, but it does pay extraordinarily well. Yennefer has left the lady in the care of her servants and retired to her quarters on the ground floor. It always takes a while to scrub the smell of the dried herbs required for this spell off her hands and she's desperate not to smell it in her own bed tonight. 

The knock startles her when the water in the washing bowl is still a milky yellow. They townspeople have been looking for a witcher to help with an Endrega problem in a cave too close to the city and finally found one. But something has gone wrong, they assume, as a farmer seeking shelter from the rain has found him in a sorry state just outside the infested cave. It could be any witcher, she thinks, hurrying outside, but this is them (Was there a ‘them’?) - so it isn't.

It's him again, but this time they're pulling him off a horse and he's wheezing, hair sticking to his neck in a bloody mess. His legs don't support his weight when the two men try to set him down and Yennefer assumes he's too out of it to realize where he is.  
"Just get him to a room," she commands. She walks with the men heaving Geralt into a servant’s room and onto the bed, the air quiet aside from the sounds of the crackling fire. They’re eager to escape the situation, laying Geralt down and leaving the room without waiting for her nod. She prefers not having an audience for this anyway.

It looks like a poison effect, something that entered his bloodstream through the wound on his neck. She kneels on the bed beside him and carefully sweeps his hair to the side. Her heart hammers in her chest and at this point she’s glad he’s not awake enough to comment on it.  
A poisoned quill, shot from some distance. With this wound he couldn't have used Golden Oriole properly when he needed it. She would be able to remove the poison with a spell, his body able to recover as soon as it wouldn't need to fight it anymore. Her hands work quickly and methodically, removing remaining bits of the quill and draining the poison. She knows her talents and Endrega poisons well enough, but the day has been exhausting on its own.  
When she finally flops down next to him, she’s managed to clean and dress the wound reasonably well and some color is already returning to his face. She turns to her side and allows herself to run her hand along the stubble on his cheek, to indulge only for a moment. He is rather easy on the eyes, she'll give him that.

Geralt can tell he’s safe before he opens his eyes, by the scent of the pillow his head is resting on. The room is dark and cold, with a fire that must have burned down a while ago. His hand inches over to the other side of the bed, only to find abandoned, cool sheets. A grunt escapes his lips, only to burst out as a cough. Sitting up, he notices the dry, dark bloodstain where he was sleeping and feels the unpleasant numbness on his neck.   
That cave full of Endrega drones, he remembers now. She must’ve patched him up well. 

He can still sense Yennefer nearby, a hectic heartbeat so much faster than his own and definitely not sleeping. Finding the room she stayed in this way is easy, choosing his words isn't. Do you knock when visiting your lover at night? They haven’t seen each other in weeks. Is she even alone?  
"You can come in."  
She’s brushing her hair and their eyes only meet in her mirror. A black, revealing nightgown hangs off her shoulders and he’s suddenly dying to see the front of it properly.   
"You look well." She fusses with some stubborn strands of her hair and he wonders what the point is if she’s going get it messy again soon anyway.  
"Thank you. For your help. I was very fortunate-"  
"Fortunate they found you," she cuts him off and finally gets to her feet.  
Maybe she'll let him hold onto her hair again like last time.   
He wasn’t exactly expecting for her to jump up and hug him, but when she finally approaches him only to reach up and check the wound on his neck, he can’t help but roll his eyes.   
"It's already healing, it's fine."  
"Call it professional curiosity."   
He lets her take her time. He knows he'll be able to go back to the cave the next day and get the contract done.   
When he notices a cold shiver going through her body though, he closes his arms behind her and pulls her in close. This is how it’s gone the last few times. Geralt feels like she’s avoiding the circumstances but can’t really draw away from him. He looks down at her only to see her staring at his lips and he smirks because she's always done that. 

(And then it’s never long until he has her pinned against the wall or the pillows on the floor of the backroom during that banquet last time.)

There’s a flash of concern as well and he can’t quite place it. He leans down and plants a row of kisses along her jawline. A small moan escapes her when he reaches the corner of her mouth.  
"...you well enough for this?" she mumbles against his lips.  
His hands playing with the artfully embroidered fabric of her dress run down her thighs to its hem. He picks her up with ease and sets her down on the desk, his hands tracing a pattern back up her thighs. It's a decent enough answer, he figures, and deepens their kiss to burn the feeling of her soft lips into his mind again. Yennefer pulls him closer between her legs and buries a hand in his hair, careful to avoid his sore neck.   
He holds back a choke when the pads of his thumbs only find bare skin where he'd expected to feel the expensive underwear she usually wore. 

"You expected a visitor?"

"You did break that pair last time."

"Didn't seem to mind."

"I don't - fuck," the swear escapes her lips when his hand curls against her clit and he really doesn't mind either. All that matters now is his Yen squirming against him, her fingers opening his belt buckle and her soft hands wrapping around him. He grunts and pushes back against her hand. There's something about getting her messy he likes. The sound she makes when he wraps his hand around hers and sets a pace is new. She bites her lip and watches him, how he sucks in a quick breath when she gets the pressure just right.  
He's planned on going slower but when she draws him close for their next kiss and her nightgown has slipped down her arms and is only feebly holding on, the tip of his cock is already nudging against her wetness.

His hand finds her breast and she's not very patient, never has been; there's always some control, even when Geralt is the one hovering above her. Her legs try to push him forward, but she can't quite lock him in the way she'd like.   
He leans in for a kiss to taste the little breath she always takes, edges her legs apart and pushes himself inside her. For the moment, Geralt's biggest regret is that he didn't take off his shirt before so the sensation of her nails scraping down his back feels more numb than it should. He finds a rhythm that matches the stroke their hands had earlier, quick, needy thrusts while her tongue explores the edge of his mouth.   
It's just the right friction when her breath hitches. Usually when she gets close she'll cling to his neck and they'll have to make up for that later because he's been missing it. His hand snakes down between them instead, giving attention to her clit and her legs tense around his waist. She's beautiful when she comes around him and the sensation takes him with her. 

His forehead drops to meet hers while they catch their breath. Yennefer casts a quick glance at his neck and this time he smiles before pulling her with him to her bed. 

(There is a 'them', he decides. Maybe he'll find the right words in the morning.)


End file.
